


Hell Hath No Fury

by tesha198



Series: Death [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Death owns Stiles & Derek, Death wants Stiles, Hellhound!Derek, M/M, Road trip to Mystic Falls, reaper!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tesha198/pseuds/tesha198
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to I'll Be Damned. </p>
<p>Stiles and Derek are enjoying their new relationship and all the sex that not having to sleep allows them (being dead isn't all bad). Death, however, isn't as ecstatic at seeing the object of his desire - aka Stiles - in bed with his new Hellhound - aka Derek. Wanting to force them apart he gives Derek an impossible task, close a rift that's been opened between the plain of the living and the plain of the dead. When he fails Derek will be forced back to Death's domain to repay his debt alongside all the other Hellhounds in Death's servitude. Hence Stiles and Derek embark on a road trip to Mystic Falls to close a rift and remain together. What could go wrong? Add a Bennett witch, an Original vampire and a Doppelgänger and the question soon becomes, what could go right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Impossible Task

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter! More to come soon!   
> Enjoy and wish me luck on my Financial Accounting midterm tomorrow!

Stiles grinned down at Derek, mischievously biting his bottom and playfully cocking his head to the side. Derek arched a brow at him in response, staring up at him from his place lying flat on his back in bed. Stiles could feel his breath hitch as he stopped bouncing atop him and leaned down to kiss Derek who dug his fingers into Stiles’ hips at the sudden lack of friction. Stiles inhaled sharply at his touch but snickered against Derek’s lips, still refusing to continue riding him.

“Having fun?” A piercing voice suddenly asked, the room temperature suddenly plummeting at his abrupt appearance.

Stiles yelped and rolled off of Derek, and in doing so fell off the side of the bed and crashed to the hard wooden floor below. He swore under his breath and scrambled to cover up, desperately grabbing one of the mussed blankets hanging off the side of the bed and wrapping himself in it.

“What the hell!” Stiles demanded angrily after he was safely covered by the blanket.

“Shrewd as always Stiles.” Death’s voice echoed, just as painful to hear as ever. “Ready to be mine?”

Derek growled from where he was lying in bed and Stiles rolled his eyes. Where as Stiles had frantically covered himself at the sudden intrusion to their lovemaking, Derek had opted to remain sprawled unashamedly on the bed. He was lying, arms folded behind his head, with zero covering and zero shame at the fact absolutely everything was visible for all to see.

Death frowned at Derek, his human façade narrowing its eyes and pursing its lips in irritation at Derek’s brazenness. Derek simple stared back at him defiantly, ignoring the Hellhound within him struggling to submit in the presence of its master.

“There is an incident that requires your attention.” Death announced, his voice ringing in Derek’s head as though it were directly beside a fire alarm. “A rift between the two sides has opened in a nearby town. Souls are escaping the other side and you need to round them up.”

“Do I look like a butterfly net to you?” Derek snarled, narrowing his eyes.

“You also need to close the rift permanently.” Death grinned, revealing that unsettling toothy smile that looked as though it could puncture the metal of a car. “If you fail you’ll be brought back to the other side until such time as your debt is paid. Plus interest. That means no seeing Stiles and no visiting the living plain.”

“You can’t do that!” Stiles protested angrily.

“Oh but I can. If he fails he’ll be my Hellhound until he’s collected enough souls to appease me.” Death chuckled, the sound like the shrill noise of nails on a chalkboard. “Even now the animal inside you is begging to submit. Why deny the inevitable?”

“Where is this town?” Derek ground out, refusing to admit he was right and forcing his Hellhound to the depths of his mind.

“Mystic Falls.” Death replied, an amusement in his voice that set Derek on edge.

Death turned back to Stiles, already bored with provoking Derek when the real object of his desire was in the room. Quickly, he closed the gap between him and Stiles, tracing a hand down Stiles cheek with lust filled eyes.

“You can’t hold out forever.” Death whispered. “I have an eternity of patience.”

Derek growled once more from the bed, this time more vicious than before, and sits up, his eyes flashing the blood red of a Hellhound.

“Careful dog.” Death warned darkly, never removing his gaze from Stiles’ face. “It’s unwise to bite the hand that feeds. Remember who owns you.”

“My answer hasn’t changed.” Stiles replied with a frown, narrowing his eyes defiantly and earning an amused and unsettling grin from Death.

“It will.” Death promised, removing his hand from Stiles’ check and stepping away from him. “I’ll return soon. Until next time Stiles.”

With that Death vanished in a plume of black smoke and Stiles collapsed onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh.

“I think we need a pack meeting.” Stiles huffed, irritated, dragging himself to his feet and beginning to throw on clothes.

Derek sighed and began doing the same. Nothing killed a good mood quite like a visit from Death.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’ll come with you.” Scott insisted with a curt nod.

Stiles smiled softly at his friend and shook his head, sighing at Scott’s deep frown.

“This is death business not pack business.” Stiles sighed, resting his elbows on his knees where he sat on the couch. “We won’t be gone long. Besides, you still need to protect the Nemeton.”

Scott’s frown transitioned to a scowl and Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of it. Scott had had a rough time of the whole werewolf ordeal in the beginning, but he was proving to me a great Alpha and Stiles knew he wouldn’t ignore is responsibilities in Beacon Hills in order to take a road trip with him and Derek.

“We’ll be fine.” Stiles continued, watching as Scott exhaled in acceptance and sank back into the couch. “We’re leaving in a few hours. We’ll be back before you know it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mystic Falls reminded Stiles of Beacon Hills more than it should have. The quaint shops, the pristine streets decorated with mindful pride only small-town citizens could achieve.

Derek’s Camaro stood out against the simple cars and family vans driving around town and Stiles found himself once again longing for his beat up jeep. Still, the desire was short lived after a few short minutes of driving through the town square revealed just how many souls were roaming freely among the living. Every other person seemed to be a dead soul who’d managed to slip into the living plain and after a few minutes of driving Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how the townspeople didn’t realize their population was comprised of dead people.

“This is ridiculous.” Derek snarled, throwing the car into park so harshly Stiles feared the gear stick might snap off under the force. “He’s intentionally given me an impossible job.”

Stiles chuckled and undid his seatbelt, climbing out of the flashy car and leaning down to speak through the open door.

“Did you actually think working for Death would be easy?” Stiles asked with a smirk and an arched brow before slamming the car door and walking across the town square.

“How am I supposed to close a rift anyway? I’m a Hellhound not a zipper.” Derek snarled, quickly catching up to Stiles and walking angrily beside him with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and aviator sunglasses on his face to hide his blood red eyes continuously flashing in the face of so many loose souls.

“Well you do have the teeth.” Stiles chuckled sarcastically, glancing around the square curiously.

Derek fixed him with an exasperated look and Stiles rolled his eyes, focusing his attention on a soul sitting on a park bench across the street.

“Let’s start with crossing them over and figure out the zipper thing later.” Stiles offered, jerking his head towards the soul he’d spotted before moving to approach it.

Derek followed him and they both took a seat on the park bench on either side of the soul.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Stiles spoke once they’d trapped the soul of the man between them on the bench. “You’re going to come with me quietly and no one gets hurt.”

The man glanced between Stiles and Derek wearily, as if contemplating running, before Stiles set his mouth into a hard line and rolled up his sleeve to reveal his scythe tattoo. The man’s eyes flashed in recognition and widened in panic before he turned to Derek who pulled his sunglasses down his nose slightly to reveal his blood red Hellhound eyes. The man’s panic escalated even further and he nodded in agreement to Stiles demand, knowing all to well that a Hellhound bite meant a one-way ticket to oblivion.

Stiles smiled and guided the man to a nearby alley out of sight of the town square where he quickly disappeared with man’s soul and reappeared a few moments later to find Derek waiting patiently leaning against a graffitied wall.

“One down.” Stiles grinned at Derek.

“A thousand to go.” Derek frowned back with a huff as they left the alley to find the next soul.


	2. Immortal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Comment your thoughts or questions.

Derek was furious. It had been hours and they’d barely made a dent in the number of souls lackadaisically wandering the streets of Mystic Falls. In fact, he’d wager there were actually more than when they’d began.

“This is getting tedious.” Stiles huffed in irritation as he reappeared in front of Derek for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“It’s pointless until we close the rift.” Derek admitted in a biting tone filled with frustration. “For all we know they’re slipping through as fast as we’re crossing them over.”

“What do you suggest?” Stiles arched a brow, eyeing Derek curiously.

“We need to figure out where the rift came from.” Derek answered, climbing back into his Camaro and pulling out his cellphone.

Stiles followed, closing the door and watching as Derek dialed a number and set the phone on the dash between them. It rang a few times, the sound filling the silence that had settled over the car.

“Hello?” Lydia’s voice answered almost melodically.

“Lydia.” Derek addressed her abruptly, not even bothering to introduce himself before launching into his request. “How much do you know about Mystic Falls?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Lydia replied flatly, and Stiles could practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone.

“How fast can you educate yourself?” Derek asked, remaining surprisingly level headed considering Lydia’s sarcasm.

“Probably as fast as Stiles can.” Lydia sighed, and Stiles had to stifle a snicker with his hand so as not to start an argument with Derek. “What’s going on?”

“We’re trying to figure out where the rift came from.” Stiles answered before Derek had a chance, sensing Derek’s frustration.

“Stiles.” Lydia greeted with a sigh, her voice softening slightly upon realizing he was on the phone as well. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.” Stiles smiled, smirking at Derek who frowned in response but held his tongue, not wanting to change Lydia’s decision.

The phone clicked, refilling the car with a silence lightened only by Stiles amused grin.

“Shut up.” Derek growled, putting the car in drive and pulling away from the curb.

“I didn’t say anything.” Stiles replied, his grin widening.

“You didn’t have to.” Derek returned, glancing at Stiles from the corner of his eye as he drove.

 

* * *

 

 

The bar was loud and filled with teenagers, some playing pool and some crammed into booths trying to drink without being noticed by anyone with enough authority to punish them. Derek immediately heads for the alcohol, flagging the bartender easily given his only competition for attention was scraggly teens vying for drinks.

“Two beers.” Derek requested, raising two fingers to reiterate his order.

The bartender nodded and passed him the beers before returning his attention begrudgingly to the teens shouting orders at him with impatient demand.

“So our plan is to hang out in a bar and drink?” Stiles smirked, taking the beer from Derek and taking a large sip.

“Would you rather hang out in a hotel room and drink?” Derek arched a brow, falling into a chair across from Stiles and propping his foot on the edge of Stiles’ chair.

“I can think of a few fun things to do in a hotel room.” Stiles smirked, gazing provocatively at Derek who smirked in response and took another swig of beer.

“May I join you?” Someone suddenly interjected, dropping into a chair at their table before either could object.

Derek frowned, his entire body tensing at the sudden intrusion as his wolf fought to defend its territory.

“I’m sorry that seat’s taken.” Stiles responded, sensing Derek’s displeasure at the stranger’s presence.

“Oh. By whom?” The man asked, cocking his head to the side in inquiry.

“My imaginary friend James.” Stiles ground out, eyes narrowing and anger rising.

“Oh then I’m sure he wont mind.” The man smiled, a dark glint in his eyes that made Stiles frown and Derek growl. “You’ve been causing quite the problem for us.”

“Us?” Stiles asked, eyeing Derek.

Even with his sunglasses on Derek’s eyes were clearly narrowed, his brows knitted together in barely contained anger.

As soon as the question left Stiles’ mouth their table was surrounded and Derek’s chest was rumbling in a loud growl, his beer forsaken in favor of protecting Stiles.

“Let’s go somewhere less public, shall we?” The man who they’d been speaking with rose to his feet and began striding towards the exit.

Stiles and Derek begrudgingly followed, more curious than anything else. Derek shot Stiles displeased frowns as they walked, silently begging him not to do something irritating and instead simply disappear from sight. Stiles ignored him, following the man out of the bar unconcernedly, the others who’d surrounded their table walking behind them to prevent any sudden escape attempts.

“It seems you’ve been causing problems for our local undead population.” The man spoke once they were outside, his thick accent smooth as silk.

Neither Stiles nor Derek responded, simply continued trailing behind him in quickly increasing boredom.

“Those problems have begun affecting my own life so I’m sure you can imagine my frustration.” The man continued, still walking with Stiles and Derek following behind.

Before the conversation could continue any further, Derek’s cell rang in his pocket, silencing the man and halting everyone in the middle of the street. Derek reached into his pocket and produced the phone, hitting the talk button so forcefully Stiles wondered how the phone didn’t break.

“Lydia. Not a great time.” Derek growled into the phone, narrowing his eyes at the man staring at him in displeasure.

Without so much as a word more of explanation, Derek had hung up the phone and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Well. I can see all pleasantries have been abandoned.” The man sighed, folding his hands behind his back. “I think it time you leave town.”

Stiles laughed. He couldn’t help it, though that fact did nothing to erase the murderous glare that spread over the man’s face. It took a moment, but Stiles finally composed himself enough to speak, albeit still with an amused grin.

“Go home.” Stiles instructed the man forcefully.

The man’s murderous glare transformed into a murderous hiss and suddenly Stiles was pinned against a wall. Black and gold inhuman eyes bore into his own as the man held him by the throat, barring his fangs and generally trying to appear menacing. Something not helped by the somewhat confused expression that flashed across his face when Stiles didn’t wince nor gasp for air under the tight grip around his throat.

Stiles simply arched a brow and frowned, already bored with his sudden display of power. In an instant Derek was growling, his sunglasses removed and his blood red Hellhound eyes assessing the man he now had pinned against the wall. He snarled and snapped at the man, wanting nothing more than to take a painful bite of his flesh and revel in watching him disappear into oblivion. To taste his blood and watch as his life was ripped away, just as he’d been willing to do to Stiles.

Stiles’ hand on Derek’s back stopped him, calming him just enough to make sure the man remained alive but not so much as to ensure his immediate life wasn’t immensely painful.

“You have no idea who you’re threatening.” The man spluttered under the increasing pressure of Derek’s grip around his throat and the painful twinge of Derek’s claws slowly sinking into his flesh.

“I know exactly what you are.” Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. “An immortal by unnatural magic. And I could easily take that away.”

Stiles grabbed the man’s arm, smirking darkly as it quickly began to age under his touch, shriveling and beginning to decay as time caught up to it. The man looked horrified as he struggled in futility against Stiles touch. After a few moments of allowing the man to suffer, Stiles released him and his arm returned to its immortal youthfulness.

“Perhaps we can reach an understanding.” Stiles offered, eyeing the blood slowly beginning to drip down the man’s neck where Derek had sunk his claws into the pale flesh.


	3. Hourglass Brand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? More to come soon!

“What are you?” The man demanded as Derek released his neck and took a step back, a satisfied glint in his eyes at the man’s obvious discomfort.

“What caused the rift?” Stiles asked, ignoring the man’s question entirely.

The man frowned, his jaw tightening and his eyes narrowing in fury at being snubbed, clearly not used to not being in complete control. He said nothing, refusing to answer, whether out of prideful stubbornness or idiotic suicidal tendencies Stiles wasn’t sure. Either way he simply glared at Stiles silently daring him to continuing ignoring his question.

“You can either help close the rift or die.” Stiles sighed, rolling his eyes and cuffing the sleeve of his shirt so he could access his scythe tattoo if needed.

“Close the rift?” The man arched a brow, his jaw unclenching slightly at Stiles’ words. “That’s your intention?”

“Well we’re not here to attend a dance.” Stiles scoffed, silently wondering how their conversation has suddenly veered right.

“Shame, dear Caroline will be so disappointed.” The man returned with equal amounts of sarcasm.

A moment passed in which Stiles and the man faced off, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into thin lines of discontent, both irritated beyond measure by the other. The silence was only broken when Derek cleared his throat from his place leaning on a nearby wall, observing their battle of wills. The sound broke Stiles from his frustrated trans and he rubbed his temple with his hand, done with getting sucked in to the man’s twisted power games.

“Bite him.” Stiles huffed to Derek, turning to leave without so much as another look at the immortal.

Derek pushed himself off the wall, his eyes glowing blood red and his Hellhound desperately clawing its way to the surface, eager to sink its teeth into the cocky immortal. He opened his mouth, razor sharp teeth extending from his gums and promising the man before him a painful trip to oblivion.

“It’s a shame you’ll never close the rift.” The man called after Stiles in an almost mocking tone.

Stiles froze, face settling into a hard mask as he slowly turned to assess the other man once again pinned against a wall by Derek.

“Wait.” Stiles spoke, knowing Derek’s Hellhound would listen to him and wait a few minutes before destroying the more than a little irritating immortal.

“I too want the veil resurrected. It’s a shame killing me destroys the key to doing so.” The man grinned, ignoring Derek’s growl as he pushed him harder against the wall.

“I don’t like puzzles.” Stiles pressed in a dark, murderous tone.

“Only because you haven’t got all the pieces.” The man replied.

“Spare your life and you’ll close the rift.” Stiles narrowed his eyes skeptically. “That’s the agreement?”

The man nodded and a grin spread across Stiles’ face. He walked back to where Derek had the man pinned to the wall and took the man’s arm in his hands. He wrapped his hand tightly around the man’s forearm and watched as he howled in pain, the smell of burning flesh filling the air around them. After a few seconds Stiles released his grip and the man’s arm fell limply back to his side, his howls petering out in favor of labored panting.

“What did you do?” The man demanded, raising his arm to find an hourglass branded into his skin.

“You’ve been marked for death.” Stiles replied with dark eyes. “When the sand in the hourglass stops flowing you will die. You have two weeks tops to help us close the rift.”

“I never agreed to this.” The man snarled, suddenly struggling furiously against Derek’s hold.

“You did.” Stiles returned, unconcerned. “You agreed your life would be spared in exchange for closing the rift. Keep your word and you wont have a problem. Oh and the farther away from us you get, the faster the sand falls. Like I said, I don’t like puzzles.”

Stiles nodded and Derek released the man, putting his sunglasses on to cover his Hellhound eyes once more.

“Where to?” Stiles asked the man, eyeing him amusedly.

“The Salvatore house.” The man ground out, clearly wanting to run but not stupid enough to lessen his chances of survival even more.

 

* * *

 

 

The house was large and reminded Stiles of an obnoxiously oversized cottage. He climbed out of Derek’s car alongside Derek and followed the man up to the front door. Somehow he had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and glancing at Derek it was clear he felt the same. If he’d been in full shift there was no doubt the fur on his back would’ve been bristling in unease.

“What is this place?” Stiles asked with a frown.

The man didn’t answer, instead threw the door open and waltzed in as though he had every right to enter without permission. Stiles followed and quickly sidestepped as the man went flying backwards and out the front door, landing on the porch with a loud crunch. Stiles and Derek both sighed and raised their brows at the men standing in the entryway to the house who had murderous glowers plastered on their faces.

“Get out.” The dark haired man with blue eyes and angular cheekbones demanded angrily.

Stiles turned to glance at the man pushing himself up off the porch with an accusing scowl.

“I may have failed to mention a few small details.” The man admitted, standing fully upright and brushing off the remaining dust from his sleeve.

“Clearly.” Stiles ground out, returning his attention to the two men barring them entry to the house.

“What could possibly make you think you’d be welcome here, Klaus.” The lighter haired man spoke harshly, a cutting resentment in his voice.

Stiles glared once more at the man standing on the porch with hands raised in mock surrender and a haughty grin plastered on his face. Klaus. Stiles made a mental note of his name before turning and taking a step further into the house.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Stiles.” Stiles extended his hand to shake the hand of the closest man, the dark haired, blue eyed one.

The man simply frowned and fixed Stiles with a look that clearly said he was insane.

“Firm grip you’ve got there.” Stiles continued sarcastically, lowering his hand and strolling into the house as though he owned it, Derek following close behind and Klaus begrudgingly doing the same, not wanting to wander too far and jeopardize his life.

“What do you want?” The lighter haired man asked when Stiles grabbed a book from one of the many shelves and absently began flipping through it.

“I don’t know.” Stiles replied absently, gesturing lazily to Klaus. “Ask him.”

“We need the Bennett witch.” Klaus announced when all eyes turned to fixate on him.

“And what makes you think we know where she is?” The dark haired man demanded.

“Oh you don’t.” Klaus answered with a cynical sneer. “But young Jeremy Gilbert does. And you’re going to help me find him.”


End file.
